by Girard, Dara
Claudia briefly shut her eyes, relieved that her secret was still safe.
Chapter 5
All Roy Fitcher wanted was a cold beer and a hot woman. Preferably both at the same time. He leaned against a palm tree, waiting for the shooting to restart. He’d been to Hawaii lots of times and was bored. He couldn’t understand how Warren could marvel at the same location each time. He frowned. Peter Warren—what an annoying prick. He hated the guy and his smug smile, arrogant commands and perfect clothes. Unlike everyone else, he rarely wore T-shirts. No, Mr. I’m-Better-Than-Everyone always wore dress shirts, crisply ironed and never wrinkled. The guy was unreal.
But he’d grown up with money, unlike Roy, who had to fight for everything. Although he was a successful cameraman, he’d always held a secret desire to be in front of the camera one day like Warren had managed to do. But that wasn’t a surprise, everything seemed to come easy to the guy. He wouldn’t even be here if Frank hadn’t called him. Roy liked Frank. He was a man’s man and treated people fairly and paid well. And the money for this assignment was good enough to help him with some gambling debts. But aside from the money, the job had another perk— Claudia Madison. He watched her laugh at something Ashley said and smiled. He planned to get to know her better. Although she’d turned him down for drinks earlier, he was undeterred. He had plenty of time to change her mind.
Roy paused when he saw Peter go over to Claudia. He waited for Claudia to dismiss him, but instead she followed him down to the beach. They should be getting ready for the next shoot. Why was he leading her away? He looked at Frank, but he didn’t seem concerned. Roy folded his arms, resisting the urge to follow them. Peter wasn’t trying to make a play, was he? He turned again to Frank and saw that Ashley had joined him and they were both watching Peter and Claudia. Roy decided to find out what was going on.
“What are you two up to?” he said, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
“Watching the master at work,” Frank said, gesturing to Peter.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it works.”
“I don’t know what the big deal is.” Roy frowned, still amazed by the other man’s appeal. “I mean, what’s he got that I don’t?”
Ashley sniffed. “I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”
He shot her a glance. “Okay, so he’s good-looking and rich, so what? He’s shallow.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I just thought women wanted more.”
“The thing about Peter is his contradiction. There’s a part of him you want to rescue and a part of him you want to tame. Plus he’s sexy. It’s a tempting package.” She paused. “What on earth? If he throws her in the water, I’ll kill him.”
“Relax,” Frank said. “It’s just a ploy.”
Ashley breathed a sigh of relief when Peter set Claudia down. “I wonder what the argument’s about?”
“He’s probably trying to give her pointers on how to be more natural in front of the camera.”
“She might not like what he has to say,” Ashley said.
“So far her performance has been…” Frank faltered.
Ashley filled in for him. “Stiff.”
“That’s a good way to put it.”
“I’m sure she’ll improve.”
“She has to.”
Ashley watched them more closely. “It’s funny how good they look together. I wouldn’t have expected that.”
Frank straightened. “What do you mean?”
“Look at them—how their gestures seem to complement each other. How her artsy dress makes him look more casual, and his classic style makes her look less flamboyant. It’s strange.” Ashley looked at her handiwork, pleased with the outcome. Claudia looked stunning in a pale blue, off-the-shoulder cotton blouse and a white pair of wide-legged silk pants. She had pulled back Claudia’s hair, which was held in place with a heavy dose of hair spray, and her outfit was set off by coral-shell earrings and a necklace. Peter looked equally ravishing in a dark purple, finely woven cotton shirt that showed off his muscular physique and a pair of loose-fitting khaki trousers. Together they made a very handsome pair.
Frank clapped his hands together. “It’s great.” He stood. “I just got an idea,” he said then left.
“Oh, they’re heading this way,” Ashley said. “Back to work.” She returned to her station, which was situated off to the side under an oversize bamboo umbrella.
Roy didn’t move but kept watching Peter. “He’s a fraud,” he muttered. “And one day I’m going to prove it.”
“No.”
Frank held up his hands. “Just hear me out.”
Peter and Frank sat in Frank’s suite. The shoot was over and they’d just finished dinner.
“I heard you the first time,” Peter said, “and the answer is the same. I’m not doing scenes with her.”
“I know she’s not your type. You like your women a bit more…” He hesitated, searching for the words.
Peter sent him a sharp look. “A bit more what?”
“Classy.”
“Claudia’s classy.”
“Not in the usual way.”
“In the usual way?” Peter said in a soft voice that was indistinguishable.
“You know…the big hoop earrings and long necklaces. That artsy style. We like our women more understated, right?” he said, suddenly unsure of Peter’s mood. “I’m not saying she’s not a very attractive woman.”
“I know what you’re trying to say, and the answer is still no.”
“Okay, so you don’t like her.” When Peter looked surprised, Frank shrugged. “It’s obvious. We all saw you nearly toss her in the ocean.”
He shrugged. “I was just making a point.”
“There’s something else.”
Peter shifted in his seat. “What?”
“She gets under your skin. I can’t help but notice it, because I know you. You’re cordial to her, but not in your usual way. Typically, you get a woman to smile, then you get her to laugh, then you get her into bed.”
Peter began to grin. “There’s still time.”
Frank shook his head. “You won’t be able to get her with your typical charm. The biggest problem is she’s a female version of you.”
Peter’s grin vanished. “She’s not a female version of anything, and certainly not me. She’s no different from any other woman.”
“If you believe that you’d be making a mistake.”
Peter drummed his fingers on the table. “I understand her more than you know.”
“Probably and I don’t know why she rubs you the wrong way, but it works.”
Peter stopped drumming and flattened his palm on the table. “What?”
“When I saw the two of you on the beach today, my mind went crazy. Because she’s not your type, it makes things more interesting. You’re more unassuming. I don’t know what it is, but something sparkles when you’re together.”
“Sparkles? What is this, a disco?”
Frank grimaced. “Bear with me—I couldn’t think of another word. This is a great idea.”
Peter shook his head. “No, there’s no reason to change things. She was flawless in her last shoot. I’ve finally got her on track.”
“I know. Whatever you said worked. She was natural and friendly and great to look at. But together, you’re dynamite. The camera will love you. You want a hit? I know how to give you one.”
“We have different audiences,” Peter said, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
“You’ll blend them together. The guys will love looking at her, and the ladies will love looking at you. It’s the perfect combination. It’s TV gold!”
Peter looked away.
Frank leaned forward. “Besides, combining scenes in the various locations will save on costs and put us back on schedule.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t argue at all. Just tell me if you w
ant a hit or not.” He held out his hand.
Peter stared at Frank’s extended hand, conflicted. He wanted this to work, but he’d made another mistake this afternoon. He shouldn’t have touched her again, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He remembered the way the sun touched her hair, the way the wind caressed her skin, how her face glowed as she told him about her impression of the beach. She’d stirred something deep within him, and for one wild instant he pictured her naked on the beach with the waves washing over her smooth brown body, making her legs look sleek and wet and her nipples hard. Then he imagined himself as the wave completely covering her…
Peter silently swore as the vivid image rose again in his mind. He’d found nothing wrong with her makeup, but he had to say something to help dampen his dangerous attraction to her. It was more potent than he’d realized, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about the brief look of fear he’d seen on her face. What did it mean? It wasn’t just sexual unease, and it reached him at his core. He had to find out what she was hiding. But now wasn’t the time.
He knew Frank understood what worked, and fortunately no one suspected how he really felt about Claudia. The situation was complicated enough.
Peter shook Frank’s hand. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Chapter 6
He didn’t know. All these years she’d hated him for the wrong reason. But Claudia knew she needed to let him believe what he had to. His bitterness kept her safe. Their kiss was just a salve for his bruised ego. She had no doubt that their relationship couldn’t be saved.
Fate had intervened for a reason. And the truth, while it freed her and allowed her to heal, would devastate him if she told him now. No, she’d never tell him.
But thoughts of what might have been assaulted her and wouldn’t let her enjoy her environment or relax. That evening she’d eaten a meal by herself. Their personal chef, Samson, who came with the villa, had made an excellent dish of garlic shrimp, eggplant and tomato pilaf, and for dessert frozen tarragon mousse with strawberries and fresh-sliced Hawaiian pineapples. She was still getting used to the extravagant accommodations. She’d taken several pictures of the grand ten-foot, solid-wood dining table and the handblown-glass, ceiling-mounted chandelier, which had a dimmer switch to create a specific dining ambience. Tonight, she’d put it on a low light.
A spectacular view of the ocean and sunset blazed in the distance and could be seen from the patio. She had hoped for a quiet, restful evening, but that wasn’t to be. Outside on the patio, the crew spent the rest of the evening trying to capture one of the island’s exquisite crimson-and-scarlet sunsets.
Claudia tried to read and then watch TV, but neither could calm her thoughts, even after a twelve-hour workday. It was still early evening, so she called the concierge and within five minutes a taxi arrived and took her to an exclusive nightclub just a few blocks away. She felt wired. After Peter had walked away from her on the beach, she’d gone in front of the camera and nailed every line and hit every cue. She shocked everyone, but Peter only looked smug. She didn’t care. She was going to make this project a success no matter what he thought of her. He’d broken her heart, but he’d also healed it.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Claudia turned and saw Roy take the seat next to her at the bar. She liked his attractive, loose-limbed style. Unlike the others, he didn’t make her feel nervous and had rooted for her through her gaffes. She gestured to her half-finished martini glass. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good job today.”
“I bet I had you all nervous.”
He shrugged. “It takes getting used to. I knew you’d get the hang of it eventually.”
She took a sip. Then a song came on and she rocked back and forth to the beat.
Roy held out his hand. “Dance?”
“Sure.”
Claudia followed Roy to the dimly lit dance floor and let him draw her close. He was a smooth dancer. It had been a while since she danced with a man. She’d had a casual affair four months ago that had ended amicably, but none of her affairs was ever serious.
“Watch out for Warren.”
Claudia laughed, surprised by his warning. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“I thought so,” Roy said, pleased. “He’s not like us.”
“Like us?”
“He’s not what he seems. I’m not fooled by that clean-cut style of his.”
“Hmm.”
She stiffened when she saw Peter enter the club. Their eyes met, but she was the first to turn away. Roy sensed the change in her and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t let him bother you. He doesn’t own us.”
“No,” she agreed, watching Peter take a booth with Frank.
“Besides, give him ten minutes and he’ll have a woman at his side.”
It took five. Soon two very attractive women were giggling with him. Claudia tried to look away, but her gaze kept returning to him. She fought not to notice how one woman leaned into him and that he didn’t move away, and that the second woman let her long black hair brush against his shoulder.
“Poor Frank,” she said.
“Don’t feel sorry for him. He likes taking Warren’s leftovers.”
Claudia frowned, not liking Roy’s words but understanding his meaning. However, she hadn’t come to the club to talk about Peter. She wanted to erase him from her mind and disappear into the dim lights, crush of bodies and loud music.
She closed her eyes and let Roy take the lead, but when a faster song came on she allowed herself to be consumed by the pulsing drumbeats and quick-paced sound.
She pulled away from Roy and lost herself in the music, undulating her torso, swaying her hips in a sensual rhythm. She gasped in surprise when she backed into someone and turned her head to apologize until she realized it was Peter.
“You should watch where you’re going,” he said in a teasing voice over his shoulder.
“Maybe you should just move out of my way.”
“Or maybe you shouldn’t take up so much space. There’s enough room on the dance floor for both of us.”
Claudia wiggled halfway down to the floor, pressing her body against his, feeling the heat of his back and the soft curve of his butt. “Really?” she said, making her way up again.
Peter turned to face her. “Yes. Otherwise, you have to make room because I’m not going anywhere.”
Claudia boldly faced him, their bodies dangerously close but not touching. He didn’t back away and her pulse quickened, but she accepted the challenge and the heady jolt of excitement. “Neither am I.”
One of Peter’s newfound companions grabbed his arm before he could reply. Claudia waved her fingers in a triumphant motion of goodbye, but Peter leaned forward, this time making sure that his chest brushed against her shoulder. His warm breath caressed her ear when he said, “Don’t think you’ve won,” before he let himself be led away.
Roy came up next to her. “Did he upset you?”
“No, it was nothing,” she said, her spirits plummeting as she saw the two women fawning over Peter. “But I’m ready to go.”
“That’s a good idea.”
They went outside where the air was cool and walked back to their villas. Roy stroked Claudia’s arm. “The beach is nice at night.”
“Yes, I can see it from my villa.”
He took her hand. “It’s better up close.”
She drew away. “Not tonight.”
“I read one of your books and I like your premise. I’m not up for anything serious. I wouldn’t put any pressure on you, but I’d like to be with you.”
“I’m flattered Roy, but I need to focus on my work.”
“It will get easier. We have lots of weeks we’ll be working together.” He stopped in front of her door and smiled. “Let me know when you change your mind.”
Claudia couldn’t help but notice the confidence of his words—not if, but when.
She shook her head, amused. “Good night, Roy.”
<
br /> He kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”
Claudia entered the villa, took a hot shower and changed into a set of silk pajamas then slipped into her ultralush pillow-top bed, wondering if she should have taken Roy up on his offer so that she wouldn’t keep thinking about Peter. She didn’t want to think about him. She needed to fall straight asleep. She wouldn’t wait up and listen to hear if he’d brought home a companion or imagine him using his sexy smile and velvet voice to lure a woman into bed. What he did was none of her business.
It didn’t matter that when he’d looked at her across the room as she was dancing with Roy, that all other men fell away. Claudia pounded her pillow. No, I’m not doing this again. She had too much at stake. She would act the role she needed to play. He saw her as a runaway bride, and that’s what she’d be. Besides, it fit her public image.
It suited his public image, too. Peter was a natural in front of the camera. He never missed a line or cue, could ad-lib with ease and was immensely fun to watch. Not many people could transfer between radio and television with such ease. But he did most things well. Even before their talk on the beach, Claudia knew she was failing miserably. She was too aware not to notice how anxious everyone had been getting because of her. She lived her life watching people and gauging their reactions. She was an observer. People were something she understood. She liked to make sense out of things, because she’d grown up in a house of quiet chaos.
On the outside they were an ordinary family—a mother, a father, two girls and a boy. But if one were to remove the first layer, it would reveal a mother who had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Everything had to be right according to her standards. The second layer would reveal a father who had stopped trying to do anything and had become emotionally dead. The last layer would show a sister who struggled with bulimia and a brother who failed at everything he tried, including three marriages. Claudia excelled by knowing what people wanted. She couldn’t fix her family, but she was determined to help others.
In elementary school she’d spent most of her time with the school counselor instead of in a classroom. She’d been anxious all the time. Then in middle school she’d blossomed once she’d found out what her mother liked most: achievement. And Claudia made sure she did. She got straight As, ran for student-body president and won, organized fundraisers and excelled in sports. She had her whole life planned. A medical degree by the time she was thirty and her own practice by thirty-five.
